


All That Matters

by BewareTheIdes15



Series: J2M!AU [2]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Barebacking, Felching, Hair-pulling, Multi, Sex Toys, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-31
Updated: 2011-08-31
Packaged: 2017-10-23 07:26:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/247701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BewareTheIdes15/pseuds/BewareTheIdes15
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Misha’s lips tug up at the edges, slightly unsteady for his usual smirk, but close enough.“I told you, he sent me.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	All That Matters

Jared is vegged out on the bed doing his damnedest not to do a damn thing when he hears the front door open. This same stupid little thrill still shoots through him every single time even though it’s been close to six weeks since he and Jensen moved in together. It’s really not that big of a step considering; hell, they actually lived together before for over a year right after college. True, Jared had been engaged at the time and Jensen was only starting to experiment with his sexuality, but nonetheless, they lived together, just without all of the sex and bed-sharing of their current arrangement.

The sex and bed-sharing is a significant improvement, Jared feels. He’s fairly sure Jensen would agree with him too, unless they’re stuck riding in the elevator with the elderly couple from next door who give them that look. It’s adorable that Jensen can be such a slut for Jared’s dick and still blush like a schoolgirl when an old lady gives him a knowing eye. Jared loves the whole damn thing.

Leather-soled dress-shoes click softly on the parquet floor of the hall and for just a second, Jared’s surprised to hear only one set. The thing with Misha isn’t exactly a full-time situation, but it's been getting steadily more regular over the - wow, hard to believe it's been so long - almost a year that he and Jen have been together and Jensen had sort of had that ‘thinking about a threesome’ expression on his face when Jared left this morning. He’s not sure if it’s weird or just incredibly hot that Jensen not only has a specific expression for that but that it crops up often enough for Jared to recognize it too, but he's generally been leaning toward the hot side. So, yes, he’d sort of been expecting his boyfriend to drag Misha home from work with him. Maybe been looking forward to it a little.

The specifics of all of this is still very much up in the air as far as Jared’s ever been informed. He and Jensen are together – truly _together_ together at long last – but sometimes he thinks they might be together with Misha too. Particularly those mornings when Jared wakes up in a tangle of arms and legs and soft, sleepy sounds, not sure where any of them begins or ends.

Jared likes those mornings, eagerly anticipates them even; there are very few things in the world that are hotter than coming in from his run to find his gorgeous boyfriend and his gorgeous… Misha making out lazily, still mostly asleep. It’s like live-action porn, but better because once he gets his fill of watching – sometimes that takes a while – he can pile back into bed with them and shut up Jensen’s whining about ‘sweaty and gross’ by pushing inside of him while he strokes Misha off. But he doesn’t know how the rules of all of this works so he’s never sure how to go about getting it again until the other two seem to decide it’s time. For the top in this relationship, he spends a hell of a lot of his time not having a fucking clue what’s going to be happening to his dick.

Jared punches the mute button on the Seahawks game he lost track of the score of a long while ago and arches, bare abs ripping in the low light as a little bit of incentive to get the hell over here as Jensen shucks his jacket. Except those aren’t Jensen’s shoulders outlined by the off-white glow spilling in from the hall or the short prickle of Jensen’s hair catching the hazy blue flicker from the TV. It is a silhouette he knows though, and Jared’s gut clenches as Misha steps further into the room.

“What happened?” He manages not to shout, but his voice is still tight and he’s already on his feet, eating up the floor with long strides until he’s right in front of the smaller man. Oh God, if Jensen’s hurt… why didn’t they call him? Somebody should have called him! He’s been Jensen’s ‘In Case of Emergency’ person for years!

He’s imagining some incompetent emergency room nurse fumbling through Jensen’s phone and accidentally deleting his number instead of dialing it and cursing her nameless, faceless face when Misha’s hand landing on his arm snags his attention.

“Jared, everything’s fine. Jensen got caught up at the office.”

Forcing a guy to take the majority of his weight is probably not the best thank you Jared has ever given, but he can’t really help himself as relief turns his joints melty. He sort of crumples all over Misha, dragging him in and holding him close like he can vicariously hug Jensen’s safety that way. Misha’s the kind of guy who’ll just let him too; hands resting gently on Jared’s back while he blithely allows the stuffing to be squeezed out of him until Jared starts to relax from his self-inflicted panic. Jensen might have some sort of point about that whole over-protective thing, not that Jared’s ever going to let that slip.

When he pulls back there’s something on Misha’s face for a moment, just a moment, that he doesn’t quite recognize. On anyone else, he’d say it was nervousness but he has reasonably reliable evidence that Misha isn't actually in possession of that particular emotion. He probably had it removed at the same time he was getting his shame taken out.

“He,” Misha clears his throat softly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, “He sent me on ahead.”

It seems like there was supposed to be more of that sentence even though it was a nice, simple declarative statement all on its own. Still, Jared feels like he’s missing something and he’s not entirely sure what.

“Oh. Cool.” He fumbles for a second at the strangeness suddenly hovering between them like a forcefield. “You want a beer or something? Have you eaten? Are you hungry?”

“I’m fine thank you,” Misha replies formally, completely at odds with the way he’s toeing out of his shoes and socks, tossing his blazer on the chair in the corner. Unable to think of anything elses to do with himself, Jared ends up sitting back down on the edge of the bed rigidly.

Somehow it all feels incredibly stilted and Jared isn’t exactly sure why. When it comes down to it, Misha and Jensen are probably better friends than Misha and he are, but that’s mainly by virtue of being together at work every single day and the fact that they’ve had an unofficial type of friends with benefits arrangement since almost the day that they met. Jared’s spent plenty of time with Misha by himself both in bed and out of it; hell, he loves hanging out with the quirky little fucker. There is no reason for this to feel so uncomfortable.

And then it hits him, why this is weird, because with no preamble whatsoever, he’s watching Misha unclasp his belt and kick off his slacks, nothing but warm, naked skin underneath and it’s doing absolute wonders for Jared's libido. His dick is filling out in the confines of his lounge pants, very much enjoying the perfunctory strip tease as Misha loses his shirt too, white-blue TV-halo catching on him like he’s living at the heart of a lit match, and Jensen’s not here.

 _Jensen’s not here._

See this? This is why they need to sit down and have some kind of discussion about how this is all supposed to go. Of course, he and Jensen fuck all the time, Misha or no Misha – they’re dating and have literal years’ worth of repressed sexual tension to work out; there’s no reason they shouldn’t have crazy monkey sex. He also knows that Jensen and Misha fuck around sometimes on their own – he’d have really thought that would bug him but mostly he just can’t get over how fucking sexy it is to have Jensen walk in all revved up and ready to climb him like a tree because he’s been walking around slick and open all afternoon from Misha’s dick. Anything that gets Jensen so hot for it they end up fucking against the wall by the front door is hard to complain about. But nothing has ever happened between he and Misha when left to their own devices and now he’s sort of iffy on what to do about it or if Jensen would be ok with it.

Misha is standing in front of him, hard-on jutting out of waxed-smooth skin that Jared has the phantom taste of on his tongue just from looking. It’s starting to go wet at the tip betraying how into this he is, but when he tilts Jared’s chin up to meet his eyes, the look on his face is solemn. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

The heat coming off of his skin is tinted with a small dose of that woodsy aftershave he uses overlaid faintly with sweat. It’s late spring in Texas, so just walking to his car and waiting for the air conditioner to play catch-up would have been enough to make any human being with functional sweat glands go a little damp, but logic be damned, the scent skips right over all of that in Jared's head and connects the dots directly to sex, an imagined waft of Jensen’s citrusy cologne missed in with it like a material memory. Like hell does it help with that ‘anything you don’t want to do’ thing because right now the only thing Jared doesn’t really want to do is keep his hands to himself.

“It’s not that,” he says, a little too breathy. His fingers twitch out and hover just shy of Misha’s body before he finally lets them come to rest just above Misha’s knee – a relatively safe swatch of flesh, all things considered. “It’s just, Jensen and I have never talked about this. I don’t know how he would feel.”

Misha’s lips tug up at the edges, slightly unsteady for his usual smirk, but close enough. He reaches down and snags Jared’s hand, pulling it slowly up between his own legs. Jared should resist, he knows that, but he doesn’t, can't, the signals between his arm and brain caught in a ten-car pileup somewhere around the elbow. Delicate, hot skin brushes over the back of his hand and the tips of his fingers as Misha leads him up to the humid center of all that warmth, cupping Jared’s against him until his middle finger slips into the crease and then he feels it, something that makes the rapid-fire pound of his heart stutter in his chest. The firmness of plastic, the flare of a plug.

“I told you, he sent me.”

The air is still in the wake of the words as though just the touch of that molasses and gravel voice pouring off of Misha’s tongue into the quiet space turned the oxygen to stone. For years of his life Jared had known he could get off to the sound of Jensen reading a take-out menu but when he gets going, damn if Misha can’t give Jen a run for his money. Jared firmly stands by his assertion that they should both quit the firm and just open up one of those sites for people to pay to be talked off by them all day long. Jared would buy a lifetime subscription.

The light from the TV highlights the stark blue of Misha’s eyes, nearly making them glow before Jared’s finger gives a testing nudge at the plug and they slink closed.

From there, it’s hardly his fault that Misha ends up gathering into his lap, slick cock fucking shallowly at Jared’s abs as he teases with the plug, jolting shocky little grunts out of Misha with no real rhythm. He turns the base this way and that against the faintly resisting muscle, parting the cheeks some more with his fingers to get at the messy slipperiness of lube and the puffy, distended furl of his hole. Misha moans loud and long, no compunction at all about little old ladies hearing him through the wall. The sound of it is almost miserable except for the way he pushes back against Jared’s touch, the tip of one finger accidentally – easily – sliding in alongside the smooth silicone. Fuck, what the hell did he and Jensen get up to earlier?

“Christ, Mish,” isn’t as much a value judgment as the death rattle of Jared's coherent thought process. It doesn’t take anywhere near as much as it should to push a little more at the awkward angle and feel his finger slip in deeper, silky clinging flesh on one side and body-warm plug on the other. Out of nowhere, he gets this momentary flash of Misha bent over Jensen’s desk, four of Jensen’s fingers worked up inside of him past the knuckle and the thumb flirting with the idea of joining them to get him this loose and open. The thought hits him like a hand squeezing his sac, almost painful but so damn good instead he can barely stand it, has to get hold of the base of the plug and start easing it out.

“Careful, I’m” Misha goes mute on a shuddering groan, hips stuttering like he doesn’t know whether to buck back and fill himself up again or hump forward and get some friction on his cock, “I’m full.”

As if Jared was breathing so well in the first place, his lungs freeze up, effectively putting a stop to that nonsense. His thoughts skid on the pavement and then peel out again, that image of Jensen’s hand pushing into Misha pausing for a heartbeat only to shift fast as blinking to Jensen’s cock sliding out of Misha, come-glossy and dripping. Jared shivers uncontrollably.

The shuffle to get further onto the bed at Jared’s urging is a flurry of flying limbs and roaming hands. Misha ends up on his elbows and knees, ass high in the air. Black silicone looks harsh against his flushed skin, almost as tempting and obscene as what it is holding in. At some point in the last couple of minutes, Jared's convinced his skin spontaneously combusted because that's the only way to explain the sensation of being made up entirely of raw, smoldering nerves.

Maybe he’s not as gentle as he should be easing the plug out but Misha’s not complaining, at least not in any way that doesn’t sound more like encouragement. The dark shadow of it slides free of Misha’s body, the ring of muscle there groping softly at the sudden emptiness. A wet flow of pearly slick spills out almost immediately, trickling down over the seam of Misha’s balls before Jared gathers it on a finger and forces it back inside. Only through great effort does Jared manage not to drool all over the sheets, his whole body buzzing with high-voltage want.

They haven’t been going bareback for all that long but Jared’s pretty thoroughly addicted to it already. Just looking at this, Misha all full-up with Jensen’s come, hole well-fucked and dirty-wet is better than a good 50% of the sex Jared’s had with other people. The mingled smell of them is maybe even better when Jared leans in and inhales the musky, ripe scent. His breath against the shuddering mouth of Misha’s opening makes it clench weakly and spread again, eager and greedy. The skin under his palms pebbles with goosebumps, his grip tightening to hold Misha in place as the other man tries to thrust back against Jared's mouth before it’s even gotten there.

Because occasionally, just occasionally, Jared can be a tease – with the way Jensen and Misha mess with him, it’s completely justified – he presses a soft, lingering kiss to the puckered flesh, just a hint of a lick that leaves Misha whining. The sound turns into a groan through gritted teeth when Jared laughs darkly, lips still pressed against Misha’s skin so the vibrations sink in. He tightens the pout of his lips and sucks just a bit at the hole, the indecent slurp of it earning him a little shot of hot, bitter come. After that he can’t hold back, no point in trying to resist when his own dick is soaking through his pants and Misha’s is steadily leaking onto the sheets.

Jared’s always been ok with giving a rim job, enjoying it as the same kind of power trip as giving head but with that little extra bit of intimacy. Before Jensen and Misha it wasn’t something he’d done a lot of, most of his relationships with men too brief to really want to go there, but then most of the things he’d considered boundaries back in the day have melted away with his boyfriend and their… lover. The fact that Misha goes absolutely climb-the-walls insane for it doesn’t hurt either. He just sounds so hot speared on Jared’s tongue, writhing helplessly as Jared eats him out with sloppy licks and sucks and light scrapes of teeth.

Misha chokes out something that might have started life as a word but now just sounds like need as Jared curls and twists his tongue inside, seeking out every last drop of the familiar taste of Jensen spilled there. Goddamn, it’s like the two of them on a secret mission to kill him with this stuff, make his heart explode with pure, raw sex.

His fingers are digging into the meat of Misha’s ass, leaving red smudges from the pressure that only get Misha pushing back into him harder, pleading wordlessly for more. Slick, dirty sounds are getting louder as Jared works more furiously, opening his mouth wider to get as close as he can to Misha, as much of his tongue into that tight, hot body as is physically possible. Spit drips down his chin and smears over his cheeks and his jaw is just starting to ache in that too-warm, satisfying way as Misha ruts back into him, fingers and teeth tearing at the sheets, thrashing wildly, helplessly.

Jared’s cock is sopping wet in his pants, soaked fabric dragging torturously against the head of his dick. He’s dying - literally dying - to stroke himself off but he can’t get a hand free from keeping Misha in place and spreading his hole with a stretch of fingers. Then it doesn’t matter because Misha is growling “Fuck me!” like the sound was dragged right up from his balls and Jared honestly doesn’t need to be told twice.

One pull that sounds like it may have popped a seam gets the soft cotton pants around his knees and then he’s sinking into Misha effortlessly, fucked-open muscles wrapped around him like hot silk. His thrusts are sharp and choppy, substituting technique for desperation. It doesn’t look like Misha minds though, not with the way his back arches and he grinds into it. There’s a feral snarl on his face when he reaches one hand back to use Jared’s hair as a leash – cutting pleasure like white-hot barbed wire drags down his spine - to drag him forward and bite at his lips from his awkward over-the-shoulder angle. That devolves quickly into short, hungry licks at Jared’s mouth around long, shameless groans as Jared pounds into him.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop,” he's murmuring against Jared’s lips as if even God himself could make Jared back off at this point. His fingers grope uncoordinatedly at Misha’s hip, across, finally finding the throbbing hot jut of his dick bobbing with each thrust so he can stroke it in time. Misha keens, high and bright, hand jerking in Jared’s hair hard enough that his scalp will probably be tender later but now it just inches him closer to the brink of coming.

He’s drawing on his reserves to fuck in any harder, tilting his hips at a practiced angle until he knows he’s gotten it right because Misha’s head slams back into the meat of his shoulder and there’s thick, clinging heat spilling over his fist. The smooth pressure around him clutches, tempting Jared when he’s already a man possessed. A dozen or so strokes later he loses the battle, vision going silver-hazy at the edges as he pumps Misha slick for the second time tonight. _Fuck._ Just thinking it makes him give up another spurt.

Misha and Jensen both tend to get noisy when they’ve got something thick pounding into them so maybe it’s not exactly a surprise that he somehow missed the sounds of another pair of shoes coming down the hall, the whump of another jacket hitting the floor, the rasp of another labored breathing pattern. He doesn’t clue into it at all until he’s pinning Misha’s pliant body to the mattress with his own dead weight and it finally occurs to him that the steady, fast beat he’s hearing isn’t his own blood rushing in his ears.

Craning his head back to find the source of the noise is a chore. Worth it though, when what he finds is Jensen standing at the end of the bed, slacks hanging open, dick in hand, jacking off furiously. He doesn’t really have enough braincells to feel worried at the moment, but the sight appeases any hand-in-the-cookie-jar instinctual guilt that might have been thinking about showing up. You know, once his brain reforms into a functioning organ again.

It’s hard to tell in the low light but Jensen looks flushed, his hair mussed like he’s been running his fingers through it unconsciously. Like maybe he caught more than just the tail end of the show.

“Jesus fuck, so fucking hot,” he groans, eyes locking with Jared’s. Misha echoes the sound when Jared’s softened cock twitches inside of him. Jared strokes a hand over Misha’s ribs to soothe him and somehow in doing so, misses the exact moment that Jensen decides to move.

When he looks up again, his boyfriend is standing by the side of the bed, looming over both of them, fist still a blur as he strips his hard-on. He’s got that thing going where his nose starts to scrunch up just before he comes and then his hand is in Jared’s temporarily freed hair – like boning a couple of cavemen, these two – and urging him up just enough for the wet crown to drag over Jared’s lips.

“Drink,” he commands, tight and thready – Misha whines again as Jared’s length tries feebly to fill out one more time – leaving Jared barely enough time to close his lips around the head before Jensen’s shooting down his throat, heavy and bitter, making Jared think about eating that flavor out of Misha again. He should probably pull out before his cock’s obstinate refusal to stay down does some kind of permanent damage to the man beneath him.

Jensen basically collapses on top of them, taking up the foot or so of free mattress beside them and using both of their bodies to make up the difference. After another minute of lazing that is rapidly approaching the point of sweltering, Jared works up the energy to at last slide his oversensitive dick out of Misha, flopping over on his back on a cool, clean section of sheets.

He hears the soft sound of Misha and Jensen’s mouths meeting on slow kisses, familiar enough with it now that he doesn’t really need to turn his head and watch them do it but does anyway because if that’s ever going to stop being sexy, it’s not going to be today.

Jared's fingers tangle with Jensen at the small of Misha's back and his boyfriend lazily looks up and drawls, “Honey, I’m home.”

“You know," Jared points out, chuckling softly as he leans across Misha's shoulders to capture Jensen's mouth for his own for a moment, "this is not most people’s reaction upon coming home to find their boyfriend fucking another guy in their bed.”

Jensen grins and nips gently at Jared's lips, “Just another reason you’re so lucky to have me.”

To that, Jared can do nothing but nod his agreement. “Absolutely.”

A rough groan tingles against Jared's chest where he's pressed in tight to Misha's side. Gingerly, the smaller man starts to turn over, muscles clearly putting up a protest after such a workout.

“Are you ok?” Jensen smirks down at him, rubbing a thumb through the sticky remains of come on his belly.

Misha licks his swollen lips and beams dopily, shimmying himself into a little wallow of pillow-top for an answer.

Easy and bright, Jensen laughs, a free sound that Jared's been in love with for far too long. He's talking against Jared's lips even as he presses for another kiss. “I think you broke him.”

“You helped,” he accuses back, cutting off any protest Jensen might have considered making by sucking on his teasing tongue.

After a minute of pleased humming as the slick muscle fucks into Jared's mouth, Jensen pulls back enough to shrug a simple,“True.”

Which, in point of fact, reminds Jared: “You keep a butt plug at your office?”

He's actually had not-so-vanilla sex with Jensen in said office on several occasions so it's not a complete shocker, he's just kind of startled that somehow he missed that.

But Jensen snorts,“Of course not," and settles his head onto Misha's shoulder, earning himself a kiss to the forehead and a flung-wide arm wrapped around his back. "Misha does.”

“Oh," Jared says, more surprised by how not surprised he is by that than anything. Once more he's forced to consider the merits of somehow finding a way to get a position at their office. "Ok.”

Jensen rumbles an amused sound, tipping his face against Misha's neck to kiss tenderly up the column of his throat. He's looking at Jared's though, watching himself be watched with glittering, thoughtful eyes. Again he finds Jared's hand, still resting over the rise and fall of Misha's diaphragm as he breathes. Jensen urges his touch upward so that he can kiss each of Jared's fingers in turn, give a slow, warm nuzzle to his palm before pressing it flat to Misha's sternum and resting his own over it.

“You can, you know," he intones seriously, having one hell of a conversation with nothing but his eyes. "As long as it’s just the three of us.” His fingers tighten minutely on Jared's, pressing them into Misha's skin as well his own.

And Jared really just has to kiss him, just has to, like he'll stop breathing if he doesn't. Jensen makes him feel like that a lot.

“Pretty sure I’d die from the fluid loss if I tried to add anyone else to the roster,” he assures, squeezing Jensen's fingers in return. His boyfriend grins again, touching their foreheads together.

“That and we’d castrate you,” Misha adds helpfully, drawing both of their attention back to him. He still looks slightly out of it but at least now his eyes are focussed, doing that sparkly 'I own you and you don't even know it' thing that they do.

“Also that,” Jared agrees, then leans in to kiss him too, because he wants to and is allowed to and maybe even supposed to.

“As long as we’re clear.” Jensen's hand smoothes up his spine, leaving a casacade of trickling shivers in it's wake. Jared smiles up at him, for the first time since they started this whole thing really feeling like he's all the way in on the joke. Whatever this is between them, whatever they are to each other, it's good, it's very very good, and at the end of the day, that's all that matters.

“Crystal.”


End file.
